


all i wish i was

by orphan_account



Series: we'll all be [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you trying to tell me that you have never smoked pot before? Schweini I am disappointed. So disappointed.” </p>
<p>“I’ve just. Like. Never had the chance.” </p>
<p>“You’ve literally been in college for three years, and you mean to tell me that you’ve never had the chance? Please, Schweini.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i wish i was

He should have known that there was something wrong the moment he walked into the house.

First of, there was no one on the living room. No one loudly playing FIFA, no sleeping on the couch, no one leaving food stains on the carpet. Secondly, there was no one answering, not even when he got to the top of the stairs, scanning quickly the rooms, only to find absolutely nothing, and no one.

Bastian should have noticed that there was something wrong, or at least different, before he heard the loud and indistinct sound of Thomas’ laughter, echoing from their backyard. Really. Honestly.

He should have noticed, but he didn’t, which is why, at this particular moment, he is squinting at the rather odd--no, odd is not the word, maybe surprising scenario that he finds in the backyard. For starters, they are in the middle of the week. It’s not that they don’t do that often, because they do, but not in a wednesday.

This is what he finds: in one corner, Manu is talking animatedly to Christopher, gesticulating with his hands in almost every word. Not much far from there, Thomas and Lisa are tangled, talking in soft whispers that are every now and then are broken by his loud cackles. It’s not an unusual situation, and he would not be surprised to see them if it wasn’t for the amount of beer and vodka that is scattered all around.

“Basti! Come celebrate with us!” Marco says, a cup of something in his hands as he grins, arms stretched open as he looks at Bastian.

“If I knew what we are celebrating I might.” He replies, a hint of amusement present on his tone and expression.

“New members, Basti. Look at them. So fresh, so young. It’s a beautiful sight, really.” To his answer, Bastian laughs, a loud and rather exaggerated laughter that makes him tilt his head.

Before he has time to answer anything, though, Marco is gone, walking towards Mario with a smile on his lips.

He gets a bottle of beer, looking at Erik and Julian, studying the soft redness on their cheeks. It takes awhile, he supposes, to get used to their loudness and their general, well, insanity, one would say.

Bastian talks to Kevin, a soft chit chat as he turns one, two, three bottles, eyes wandering around. He can hear Kevin’s voice as he asks him if he’s looking for someone, brows arched softly as he grins. Bastian tells him that he is, thank you very much, for the love of his life that he saw once upon a dream.

It’s supposed to come off as a joke, and his tone leads to such an assumption. Because it should. It really should be a joke, because he could not, and should not, be searching for Lukas, not when he knows that his feelings run deep, far deeper than Lukas’ ever could. But he does it anyway, scanning every little inch of the backyard, hoping that he would see his bloody full face smile, the way that his eyes wrinkle when his lips widen, or hear the soft tremor of his laughter.

It’s been two hours, for fucks sake, and there has been no sign from Lukas. It brings a bitter taste to his mouth, but he swallows it. Ignores it. Pretends that it’s not there, that uneasy feeling on the pit of his stomach. Pretends it, as he does it so often. As he does it when Lukas kisses his temple, as he jokingly holds him closer than necessary. As he calls him his best friend. Friend, friend, friend.

Bastian would take Lukas’ friendship over nothing, without thinking twice.

He is listening to Thomas’ excited rambles about Bayern when he listens to an undeniable ‘aha’, followed by a laughter and a soft cheering. He makes a point to ignore the warmth that grows inside of him.

“Did you bring it, Poldi?” Manu says, his tone considerably louder than necessary.

To that, all Lukas does is raise a bag on his hand, his smile growing even wider, if that was even possible.The cheers get louder after that, and that’s when Bastian knows exactly what is inside of the bag.

Bastian waits until Lukas comes to him, smiling with his whole bloody face because, why not, let's make Bastian's life miserable. He smiles back, because it is Lukas, and he could never, not in a thousand years, keep a straight face when in his presence (or a straight anything, if he’s being entirely honest).

“So, are you joining me?” He asks, and, before Bastian has even the chance to deny, he’s dragging them both to the floor, until they are sitting side by side. “Come on, Schweini. Don’t let me down.”

It’s a low trick, really. It’s a fucking low trick because Lukas knows. He knows that he won’t, can’t say no to him. Ever. “Look, Poldi, I haven’t---I’ve never actually, you know,---”

“Are you trying to tell me that you have never smoken pot before? Schweini I am disappointed. So disappointed.”

“I’ve just. Like. Never had the chance.”

“You’ve literally been in college for three years, and you mean to tell me that you’ve never had the chance? Please, Schweini.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs, and bumps Bastian in the shoulder. He mumbles a quiet I’ll teach you before taking his hand, a soft arch of his brows as he smiles from one side of the ear to the other. Bastian doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to, in all honesty. All he does is shake his head, affirmative motions as he looks into Lukas’ eyes. He can’t emphasize enough how impossible it is for him to deny anything to Lukas Podolski.

He doesn’t pay attention to what Lukas is doing. Rather, he looks at everyone’s current situation. André, Marco and Mario are sharing a blunt near the grill, Mario’s head lying comfortably on the crook of Marco’s neck. Per, on the other hand, is dancing alone in the middle of the yard, inhaling and exhaling the smoke as he shakes his hip to one side, then to the other. Mesut drags in the smoke with ease and calm, before handing it to Sami.

He feels Lukas’ hand on his shoulder, and turns to see him handing a blunt of their own.

“So, this is what you’re going to do,” Lukas says, his hand guiding Bastian’s all the way into his mouth “you’re going to inhale the smoke instead of the air. And that’s it.”

To say that it is a disaster is an understatement. It’s weird, and hot, and it makes choke on air and cough more than he expected to. It’s a tragedy, really. “Oh, Schweini, you are shit at this, what the fuck.”

Bastian hands him the blunt, his eyes closed as he coughs a bit more. “Well, you’re a fucking shitty teacher.”

Lukas laughs, mumbling a soft ‘that’s true’ before bringing the blunt to his lips. Bastian tries not to look. Try not to pay attention at the way that his lips curl around the small diameter of the cigar, the way that he closes his eyes as the smoke gets in, the way that his neck looks as he tilts his head upwards, enjoying the way the smoke feels inside of him before exhaling it.

It’s easier on the second time, and Lukas’ smile just widens as he exhales it without coughing.

They don’t really speak as they finish the first blunt and start the second, nor do they notice the way that the backyard emptied. They don't notice how closer they got to each other, either, or the way that their sides were pressed against one another as they laid on the grass, staring at the sky.

Here’s what Bastian does notice: he notices the way that Lukas’ hand curl around his, the way that his thumb moves in circular motions on it. He notices the way that Lukas tightens the grip, almost asking for him to turn, to look at him.

And he does. Because he is a fool, and he is stupid, and he doesn’t know better. He turns because he knows that the day after he’ll be able to blame it on the marijuana. He turns because he’s stupid, and a masochist, and despite knowing exactly what is going to happen, what Lukas is going to do, how they are still going to friends, just friends. He does it because he’s a fool who can not say no to Lukas.

And because he wants to. 

His eyes are a bit red, and there’s a lazy smile on his lips as he looks at Bastian, their bodies getting closer and closer, until they are practically entwined.

“Hi.” He whispers, letting go of Bastian’s hand, only to move his own towards the nape of his neck. “You look nice, Schweini.”

And, before he can do anything to protest, Lukas is pulling him close, pressing their lips together. Bastian opens his mouth, sliding into the kiss, their teeth crashing against one another as they pull each other closer, and closer, and closer.

They kiss again, and again, until their mouths go numb. They kiss and hold each other’s hands, and pretend that there is no one else there with them. They kiss until they are one and only. In that moment, Bastian doesn’t care.

He will care about it in the next day, when the headache and the regret come all at once.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd, therefore every possible mistake is on me. I _have_ revised and updated the fic, fixing some of the grammar mistakes that were scattered throughout the fic.  
>  Every and any critique and comments are well appreciated.  
> You can find me on @schwnies on Twitter, or matshunmels on Tumblr.


End file.
